


Group Activities

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mirror Universe, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty watches the show Kirk shares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Group Activities

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Holiday ‘drabble’ for anon [on tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/66814629392/musing) who asked for “Kirk [...] having Pavel ride him [...] And the crew 'helping each other out' with their arousal from watching”. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They’re halfway through by the time Scotty reaches the bridge; Chekov’s already bouncing up and down in the captain’s lap, sitting in the captain’s chair, facing out and all of them. The Enterprise is docked, and only those of high enough rank are here. Sulu’s chair is turned around, his legs are spread, and his cock is out, his hand busy on his shaft while he _stares_ at the scene in front of him. Several others are in their own seats, a few standing between. Spock, standing next to Chekov’s empty chair, is the only one who isn’t touching himself. 

Scotty doesn’t have even close to Spock’s control. He slips into the one empty seat, catching and returning Kirk’s smile over Chekov’s shoulder. Kirk looks exquisite, just like always. Handsome, powerful, lazy and luxurious, still fully dressed, though his pants are open, the base of his cock just barely visible as it slips in and out of Chekov’s tight body. Chekov is stripped down to just his boots, everything on display. His hands are behind him, steadying himself on his captain’s thighs while he rides his captain’s cock. His face is flushed, eyes heavy, pupils blown, breathing coming hard, curls a mess on his face. He looks unabashedly pretty, innocent, and thoroughly debauched. 

Chekov’s getting promoted or something like that. Maybe to Kirk’s head toy; who knows. To be honest, Scotty didn’t pay that much attention to the announcement. He heard there was a free show involving a cute eighteen-year-old Russian and he raced right up, already getting hard at the thought. He’s seen his fair share of Chekov’s ass, bent over a console in Engineering or sticking out of a Jefferies tube, and if it weren’t for all the competition, Chekov’s Engineering lessons would’ve taken a dirty turn several mornings ago. Judging from the way Kirk possessively grabs at Chekov’s hips and bites at his ear and reaches around to touch his little pink cock, Scotty was right to resist. Chekov arches beautifully, head lolling back onto Kirk’s shoulder, and he moans a filthy, heavily-accented, “Oh, _Keptin_...” 

Scotty relaxes back in his chair—in Chekov’s chair. He lets his legs spread, and he drops his hands to the bulge in his pants, massaging it gently through the fabric and staring just as hard as Sulu. He’s not shy about taking himself out, especially when the rest of the bridge is already there, but he just got here. The malfunctioning Synthesizer in the mess hall could’ve waited; he should’ve come earlier. Chekov’s bobbing cock is tied at the base with a little ribbon: a makeshift cockring. At least Kirk clearly intends to make this last, then. But McCoy is standing nearby, a hypospray in the hand he’s not using to stroke himself. He’ll probably be able to give Kirk the stamina for more than one round...

“Enjoying yourself?” 

Scotty starts, and it takes him a second to realize who said it. He looks over his shoulder, up at Spock, who’s shifted closer, close enough that the words couldn’t have reached anyone other than Scotty. Scotty’s eyes only linger on the Vulcan’s face for a few seconds before he inevitably runs down Spock’s lean body, stopping at the slight tent in Spock’s pants. It’s not nearly as evident as the rest of them, but it’s there. Scotty’s never seen a Vulcan aroused before. He licks his lips, and he mutters, “Yeah, who wouldn’ be?” When Spock lifts an arched eyebrow, Scotty adds, “What are yeh doin’ ‘ere?” Because he doesn’t look like the sort to go for live action pornography. 

There’s a brief pause before Spock replies, “I am... observing the crew’s reaction.”

Scotty says, “Oh,” and doesn’t push it. That’s a strange thing to do, but Spock’s a strange man, and far be it from Scotty to pick apart that. Besides, that would take him away from what he’s supposed to be observing. When Spock doesn’t answer right away, Scotty inevitably looks back at the captain’s chair. Chekov’s cries have reached new heights, and his latest scream twists more into pain as Kirk grabs a chunk of his curls and forces his head around, leaning in for an awkward kiss. Scotty licks his lips. Lucky bastard. He finally opens the fly of his pants, and he slumps down while he pulls himself out. Chekov doesn’t look like he’ll last much longer, cockring or no. Scotty better get on it. 

Scotty’s hand has barely started when long, smooth fingers wrap around his wrist, gently pulling his hand aside. Scotty blinks stupidly down at his lap, then _stares_ , transfixed, at the man beside him. 

Spock’s knelt down next to Scotty’s chair, and his free hand lands on Scotty’s thigh, waiting while he asks, ever so quietly, “May I?”

Scotty doesn’t spare a second thought. He doesn’t care what sort of experiment Spock’s up to. He nods and can’t pull his eyes away while Spock’s fingers encase the length of his cock. 

He grunts in immediate pleasure, and Spock’s hand works quickly into a rhythmic up and down movement. Spock’s head turns back to watch the captain, and Scotty briefly considers offering to return the favour, but Spock’s bent down too far for Scotty to reach. So he just settles back and tries to enjoy the same show they all are, whilst the stoic Vulcan first officer who’s barely ever said two words to Scotty steadily jerks him off. 

Chekov’s been taking it a lot longer, but he’s not the only one that’s not going to last long. A woman on one of the side consoles suddenly lets out a muffled cry, and she crosses her legs, and Scotty just knows she’s having a particularly delightful orgasm. The smirk on Kirk’s face intensifies, and he starts bouncing Chekov even higher, while Chekov writhes and takes it and moans. Sulu comes next with a feral growl, and still, the captain shows no signs of finishing. Scotty knows he should last the longest—he got here the latest—but he has Spock’s warm, skilled hand bobbing up and down his shaft. His head tilts back, eyes still trying to focus on Chekov’s pretty crotch, being split apart, and Scotty clenches his jaw when Spock’s other hand starts to fondle his balls. He’s not going to make it. Who would’ve ever guessed that Vulcans were so good at handjobs. Not Scotty. Fuck, Spock’s good, or maybe Scotty’s just desperately horny, and the combination’s too much. Chekov’s hazel eyes flicker half-open, and they drift around the room, watching all the crewmembers he’s captured under his spell. 

When his eyes reach Scotty’s, Spock’s hand stops and squeezes, and Scotty comes shamefully fast, immediately tense and gasping and bucking up. Spock tries to muffle it, so it spurts up between his fingers, drenching only Spock’s hand. Scotty jerks with the movement and lets his vision blur, moaning shamelessly. For a lingering moment, he’s in heaven. 

As he hazily comes down, he looks sideways to thank Spock, but Spock’s already heading for the captain’s chair, wet hand and all. 

So Scotty settles back for round two.


End file.
